


the person i used to be

by wordbending



Series: Fanbruary 2019 [3]
Category: Phoenix Flair
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Coming Out, Fanbruary 2019, Gen, Trans Female Character, mostly gen though, some light claire/anala teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 10:12:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordbending/pseuds/wordbending
Summary: You've lost your mind. You must have slipped on all the water on the bathroom floor and now you're talking to some kind of cat thing in the sink, some kind of cat thing that somehow knows yourdeepest secrets.AKA I Went To The Bathroom And A Talking Cat Turned Me Into A Magical Girl?!





	the person i used to be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emptyhollowgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptyhollowgirl/gifts).



> Based on [Phoenix Flair](http://phoenixflaircomic.tumblr.com/post/122318744747/i-want-to-kill-the-person-i-used-to-be-page-1), a comic by d. Marie Licea!

You stare into your school’s bathroom mirror, water dripping off your face, and let out a sigh.

You hate the way you look. Your broad, square shoulders. Your round stomach. Your thick arms and legs. Your plain, simple clothes. Your short, nondescript hair. But, most of all, you hate your own face - your freckles. Your long, thin, pointed nose. The way your head is shaped like a soccer ball. Your acne. Your facial hair that you try every day to shave off. Your braces.

You don’t know what you want to stare back when you stare in the mirror. What would you be, if you could be your ideal self? Would you still be fat, or would you have a thin, hourglass shape? Would you have gorgeous, show-off-y clothes, like a runway model on one of your favorite fashion blogs? Would you still have braces? And on and on and on.

Whatever you would be, you wouldn’t be… this boy in front of you, you think. You’d be something entirely _new._

You take a deep breath. There’s nothing to do about it now. You’re a Shizuki, darn it. Your family fights for capital-J Justice, not… petty personal problems.

Just as you’re turning off the faucet, you hear a voice and nearly jump out of your own skin.

“ **Claire Shizuki.”**

You look rapidly back and forth, but… you can’t tell where the voice is coming from. It seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. It didn’t come from someone nearby. At least, you don’t think so. It’s also not referring to you, because...

“Hello?” you say.

“ **Claire Shizuki,”** the voice repeats.

You try to pinpoint a source. It came from…

 _Under_ the stalls? You dare yourself to get on your knees and look down under them. You hope nobody walks in.

“... **No, that’s… no. I’m not in there. I’m up here.”**

You stand up and turn around.

And, in the sink, there’s a... cat???

A very small, jet-black cat with a very strange face, kind of like a mask. The mask looks like it has an emoticon on it, like a sideways frown. Its sticking its head out of the sink drain.

 **“Claire Suzuki,”** says the cat, tilting its weird face at you.

“That’s not…!” you say loudly, not even caring about how odd you would look talking to a cat in the bathroom, or how weird this _entire situation_ is. You hiss, “That’s not my name.”

The cat thing tilts its head at you again. It says, in a much softer voice, “Wait, what?”

“No, it’s…” You cringe, whispering, “It’s not that.”

“I’m sure I have the right information,” says the cat thing. “I had a whole speech prepared about how you possess passion and determination and bravery…”

You scoff. “Yeah, right. My family’s brave and determined. _I’m_ not brave _or_ determined.”

“Nonsense. Claire…” The cat thing’s tail twitches. “Can I just call you Claire?”

You feel yourself blush. To tell the truth, you’d thought of yourself as a Claire before. When you’d dared to think that maybe all those stories you read about trans women could apply to you, too, that you weren’t just a deluded boy who liked dresses and skirts… you’d considered what your name would be if you were a girl. You’d gone through list after list of names before settling on Claire.

Plus, it reminded you of girls you admired. Like there was some stupid show you watched when you were little about a superpowered cheerleader - she had been your favorite character. And, when you’d played a survival horror game at a friend’s house when you were six, one of the characters in that had been called “Claire.” The game had scared the pants off you, but you’d really liked her too. You’d even named yourself Claire when you’d picked a girl character in Pokémon.

Claire was a good name.

But _you_ weren’t a Claire. It was just some stupid wish you had. Nothing more.

But, more importantly, _how the heck did this cat thing know that?_

You take a sharp breath. This is insane. You’re losing your mind. You must have slipped on all the water on the bathroom floor and hit your head and now you were having a dream that you were talking to a cat in the sink. A cat in the sink that knew your deepest secrets.

You pinch yourself. You don’t wake up.

“I can just leave,” says the cat thing.

“Yes, you can call me Claire,” you say quickly, cringing with every word. “Please. Please call me Claire.”

“Very good,” says the cat thing, swishing its tail. “Now, as I was saying… ahem. You possess determination, passion, and bravery, Claire Shizuki, but also so much more than that. Your soul resonates with your kindness, your compassion, your sense of justice and fairness. Those are the traits of a strong magical girl indeed.”

“A… a magical girl?” you say. “Magical _girl?”_

The cat thing doesn’t blink at you. You’re not sure it actually has eyes, as much as it kind of looks like it does. But if it did have them, and if it could, you think it would have.

“...That is what I said. Yes.”

You laugh sharply, backing away from the cat thing and towards the stalls. “You’re making… you’re making a _huge_ mistake. I mean, my last name’s Shizuki, yeah, but you have the wrong girl. I mean, person. Maybe… maybe there’s a different Shizuki here?”

“No, I’m quite sure it is you I was assigned to, Claire Shizuki.”

“You realize you’re in the _boy’s bathroom?”_ you say, extending both arms outwards towards the stalls.

The cat thing looks around. “...I did not.”

“I’m not… not a girl!”

The cat thing stares straight at you.

“But you wish to be?”

You freeze, staring right back at it.

“What?” you say, in a very soft, very quiet voice.

“You wish to be seen as a girl. Yes, I can see it now. Your greatest desire, more than your desire to change the world, to help others. I can grant you all those wishes.”

“You… you can?”

“Yes. Become a magical girl. Sign a contract with me, and I will fulfill your greatest…”

“I’ll do it,” you say, walking forward and slapping your hands on the sink. “I’ll do it, I don’t care. Just tell me what I have to do.”

The cat thing stares at you.

“...Very good, Claire Shizuki.”

* * *

From under the bathroom door of Audubon Middle School, a white glow emanates.

* * *

“So… so am I a girl now?” you say, immediately looking back into the bathroom mirror. You don’t even care that your soul was apparently ripped out of your body and is now a necklace. You only care about if you’re a girl now. But, when you look into the mirror, you look… exactly the same.

You can’t hide your disappointment.

“I…” you say, looking closely at your face, turning back and forth. You can even still see your facial hair. “I look the same.”

The cat thing’s tail twitches. “It’s not as simple as that, of course.”

A rare flash of anger crosses your features. You frown down at the cat thing. “So you lied to me?”

“No, of course not,” says the cat thing. “I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

“So you lied to me.”

“I said I can make it so that you’re seen as a girl. I didn’t say ‘by others.’ I, of course, meant ‘by yourself.’”

You bury your face in your hands and moan, “That’s _completely_ a lie.”

“Just have patience,” says the cat thing. “Why, I know someone who will see you as a girl for certain.”

“Wait, what?” you say. The cat thing crawls out of the sink drain, shakes itself off, and hops to the floor. It starts walking towards the bathroom door. You start to follow it. “Who?”

“Your partner. She is a magical girl, like you, and she’s waiting to meet you. She’s right outside, actually.”

“H-huh?” you say. “She’s outside?”

You rush back over to the mirror, look at yourself. At your facial hair, your acne, your braces, your… everything.

You moan, again. This is, by far, the worst day of your life. Worse than the day you dropped your hand-me-down Nintendo DS down a sewer drain with your precious personal copy of Pokemon Diamond, even. First, you signed a contract to become a “magical girl” without knowing or understanding any of the details, now someone who thinks you’re a girl is going to have to see… _this._

Well… nothing to do about it now. No use crying over it.

“Let’s get it over with,” you sigh.

“Very well,” says the cat thing. “Follow me.”

You walk outside the bathroom, taking a deep breath. Hopefully whoever’s there isn’t expecting someone _too_ girly. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll pass as a girl.

A girl walking out of the boy’s bathroom.

OK, so you’re doomed.

When you blink into the late afternoon sun pouring through the windows above the lockers, you come face to face with a girl. A tall girl, with lithe, sinewy muscles, dark skin, a mole under her right eye, and long brown hair in a segmented ponytail. She’s smiling - _beaming_ \- at you, her radiance only surpassed by the sunset behind her.

You feel yourself blush, but then recognition sets in.

“ _Anala?!”_

Anala, your next-door neighbor, the person you’ve known since you were practically a toddler, blinks, and then recognition sets in on _her_ face.

“ _You’re_ Claire?”

You aren’t sure how to answer that.

“Um, yep. I’m Claire.” Part of you wants to say, “I guess,” but you decide against saying that. You’re going to be Claire, darn it, no matter what anyone says. You’re not turning back now. So instead, you awkwardly say, “Yep, totally… Claire.”

“Wow, what a coincidence!” Anala says cheerfully, smiling. “I never would have guessed we’d be partners.”

You shuffle your feet, looking abashedly up at her. She’s so much taller than you remember. Was she _always_ this tall? “So you don’t… care?”

“Care about what?” says Anala, her smile not fading in the slightest. _Geez, do I have to spell it out?_ you think.

“That I’m your next-door neighbor,” you say. “Who just walked out of the boy’s bathroom.”

“Oh!” says Anala, crossing her arms behind her back. “Nemea said you were a girl. And you _want_ to be a girl, don’t you?”

You give her a careful stare. “Yes. I do.”

“Then you already are,” says Anala, still smiling. “I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

You smile at her. “Thanks.” Then, after a moment, you realize something. “Who’s Nemea?”

The cat thing hops up on your shoulder, casually splaying across it. “That would be me. Call me Nemi.”

“Nemi, huh?” you say. You reach up and pet their head - it feels very strange. The only way you can describe it is “not a cat.” But, like a cat, they lean into your touch. You even think they might be purring. The actual noise is… hard to describe.

“I guess couriers like cute nicknames,” says Anala with a shrug.

“No, not particularly,” says Nemi.

“Well, I’m glad to meet you, Nemi,” you say, smiling at them.

Nemi “purrs” louder.

* * *

When you return home that day, you’re not sure how to explain anything to your parents, to your grandparents, to your sister. How do you tell them “oh, a magic talking cat thing appeared in the boy’s bathroom at school and told me I was a girl and I said yes”? Not, uh, easily.

You decide to just be forthright with it. If you’re going to be a girl… a _magical_ girl… your family are going to have to deal with it eventually. Even if you don’t tell them all the details about becoming a magical girl, you’re not going to hide _this_ realization from them. They’ll just have to understand.

You enter the house, set your backpack down, and take your shoes off. As always, your sister, Stella, comes to greet you, wrapping you in a hug.

“What’s wrong?” she says, frowning down at you. “You look nervous. Bad grades?”

“Um, no, not that,” you say, smiling awkwardly. “We… need to talk.”

A few minutes later, your family is gathered in the dining room - your parents, your grandparents, your sister. They all look uncomfortable, but they can’t be nearly as uncomfortable as you feel.

Your family waits patiently for you to speak. At last, you open your mouth, but no words come out.

“I… I…” you mutter, cringing.

“Hey,” says Stella. “Whatever you’ve got to tell us, we’ll accept you. You know that.”

You nod, but you feel no more sure of yourself. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

“We’d never turn you away,” says your grandfather. “We love you.”

“Even if I said…” you gulp. “Even if I said…” Your voice drops to a whisper and you close your eyes. “That I was a girl? That I wanted to be… Claire?”

You can almost hear the pin drop. For a moment, everything in the room is completely silent, the only noise a clock ticking away on a wall nearby.

Then you feel something surround you, and then something else, and then something else, and you realize you’re being hugged. Your entire family is hugging you. Your mother is kissing your forehead. You dare to open your eyes and you see tears in every pair of eyes looking back at you.

“Of course we’d still love you,” says your father.

“You’re our granddaughter,” says your grandmother. “Our Claire.”

“I love you so much, Claire,” says your sister. “Nothing could ever change that.”

You feel your eyes water, and then, before you know it, you’re crying too. You hug your family back, more grateful than you’ve felt in a long, long time.

This is what you were meant to be.

* * *

“So, let me get this straight...” you start to say, as you sit in an abandoned skatepark and listen to a cat thing speak to you about magical girls while your next-door neighbor is dressed as some kind of anime superhero.

Your life has gone majorly off the rails.

“We have to hunt _monsters?”_ you continue, trying to stay focused. “Like in an RPG?”

“Nemi,” says Anala. “Did you… uh, explain _anything_ to her?”

Nemi, their head sticking out of the old purse your sister insisted on giving you, says, “I explained that she could be a girl. That was all she needed.”

Anala sighs. “OK.” She smiles at you. “Don’t worry, Claire, I’ll explain everything. But, first, you brought your Pelestear Heart, right?”

You reach into your purse, past the, uh, cat, and pull out the dark purple necklace. At least, you assume it’s a necklace of some kind. It looks more like some kind of weird, fancy dog collar. A _pretty_ dog collar, but… a dog collar.

“Good!” says Anala. “Nemi, the speech?”

Nemi says nothing.

“...Nemi?” Anala repeats. “The speech? ‘Spread your wings’?”

“Oh. You meant me,” says Nemi.

“...Who else would I have meant?” says Anala, but Nemi hops out of the bag.

“Claire Shizuki. Your dreams, your most heartfelt wishes, are at the cusp of being realized. Now, in this moment, you will become what you’ve always desired. The time has come for you to spread your wings.”

You stare at Nemi, unsure what to do. “So do I, uh, lift it up…?”

Nemi looks completely nonplussed, which you suppose shouldn’t surprise you, considering they have an emoticon for a face.

“Yes.”

You lift it up. “Alright, here goes…!”

The moment you lift the Pelestear Heart into the air, there’s an explosion of color - black, purple, and blue. It expands outward from the crystal, surrounding you, surrounding _everything._ Dark colors, inky blackness and deep violets, bleed down your vision as the antithesis of light itself covers your body. Anala completely disappears.

And then you’re _naked_ , throwing your head back as your body is silhouetted in darkness, surrounded by streams of violet ribbons. You can feel your hair growing and expanding, from its short cut into something long, then longer still. You feel your hair braiding itself into long, dark ponytails, which rise up into the air before falling back down against your back. From out of your hair, where the braids meet your scalp, black wings emerge, attached to your head by a diamond-shaped symbol.

You let out an overjoyed laugh, raising your hands, and long black gloves materialize around them, rising three-fourths of the way up your arms. You twist your hips and a lacey black skirt forms around your legs, swishing with your movements as you spin in circles. Over your legs, dark purple stockings appear. You move your hands over your chest and a ruffled black blouse forms around it, alongside a white collar, not unlike a cravat, which covers most of your neck.

Then, as you stop spinning, almost dizzy but still laughing, your face changes. As you blink, dark blue eyeliner forms around your eyes, your eyelashes expanding outwards. As you open your mouth, dazed, you feel lipstick _\- lipstick! -_ on your lips, dark red in color.

Then the darkness surrounding you fades, and you’re looking down at yourself, standing in the skatepark next to Anala - at the blouse, at the gloves, at the stockings, at the _skirt._ You recognize the fashion style instantly - gothic lolita - but you’d never have imagined _yourself_ wearing something like this in a million, billion years.

It’s perfect, you think. It’s _perfect._ It fits you like a glove in more ways than one.

Anala looks at a loss for words. She’s gaping.

Without hesitation, you run up and tackle her into a crushing bear hug. She lets out a peal of laughter as you lift her into the air, spinning her back and forth, your skirt swirling around your legs.

“This rules _!”_ you scream. “This _rules!”_

* * *

“This _suuuucks_ ,” says Anala, over coffee. “Here’s to another year of this garbage.”

You drink your own coffee, barely remembering what you ordered. A lungo, right? You don’t even know what that is, you just saw it on the menu. It tastes bitter.

“I know, Anala, but…” You blush. “I’m happier. I’m happy to really get to know you, to spend time with you.” You look up at her, smiling. “And I’m happy I… realized this about myself. That I was Claire.”

Anala looks down at you, smiling what’s, these days, a rarer and rarer smile for her. You swear you also see a blush on her dark brown cheeks.

“I’m happy for you too. That’s why I… got you something.”

You nearly spit out your lungo, choking. You pound on your chest with a fist. “What?”

“It’s... not much,” Anala says, reaching down into her backpack. She pulls out a box the size of a large hardback book and hands it to you.

You open it immediately and see… a scarf. A purple scarf.

“I know you like clothes and fashion, that kind of thing,” says Anala, looking uncomfortable, like she thinks you’re going to reject her gift or throw it in her face or something. “I saw this and thought of you. I thought it’d be a good way to celebrate our first anniversary.”

You blush deeper, unable to stop a sly smile from crossing your face. “ _Our_ first anniversary?”

“A-as partners!” Anala says quickly before realizing what she’s said. “Not… not _those_ kind of partners, I mean, like, magical girl partners... “ She buries her face in her hands. “Uggggh.”

You’re barely even listening to her as you brush your ponytail back and wrap the scarf around your neck. You take your hand mirror out of your purse and look at it.

“It’s perfect,” you say, letting out a breath.

Anala looks unsure. “Really?”

You smile, taking her hands in yours. Now you’re _sure_ she’s blushing. “Really.”

Anala smiles back. “I’m glad, Claire.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my friend Light for betaing this fic!


End file.
